


Not A Joking Matter

by Eriakit



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: 'canon divergence' here meaning 'fuck canon that sucked', Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Inspired by Music, M/M, Music, Self-Esteem Issues, roth is in love, so is jacob, the crazy matches like puzzle pieces, the fuck warehouse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-15 02:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14781686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eriakit/pseuds/Eriakit
Summary: Jacob's writing a song. Roth just wants it to be accurate, is all.





	Not A Joking Matter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dragomir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragomir/gifts).



> If you don't know the song Jokes, Jokes, Jokes, you won't get this, probably.

Roth pauses, wine glass halfway to his lips. "What was that verse again, darling? I didn't quite catch it."   
  
Jacob chuckles and mutters something about  _ old men _ and  _ hearing going _ that Roth manfully pretends not to hear. But he plays the verse again, fingers dancing over the piano's keys as he sings it from the beginning.   
  
_ "Attend the tale of Maxwell Roth! He sought the footlights like a moth, his sense of timing never off until - he opted to collaborate, with a hooded reprobate-" _   
  
Roth's fingers clench on the stem of his glass, nostrils flaring, and he cuts the other man off again. "And what do you mean by that, dear boy?"   
  
Jacob looks up from his notes, face all confusion and lingering mirth. "What? You don't want to admit to messing up even  _ once?" _   
  
Roth sets his glass down before he breaks it, or worse, throws it at the darling idiot across from him. "Jacob, why in the world would  _ collaborating _ with you be, in any way, a  _ misstep?" _   
  
He's expecting - hoping for, really - some glib comment about how much of Roth's booze Jacob drinks, or how much money he's had to spend on paper for all of Jacob's notes, or the amount of times he's had the life scared out of him by Jacob's impromptu gymnastics. What he gets, however, is very much  _ not that _ , and his heart clenches painfully in his chest as Jacob hesitates, looking down at his fingers on the keys.

"I've cause you a lot of bother," Jacob finally murmurs, and Roth is going to locate and dismember anyone who has ever called his darling boy a  _ bother _ , but not until after this conversation is finished. "I even almost - " Jacob cuts himself off, and Roth very clearly recalls a roof, and a hidden blade at his throat, and loud yelling about street urchins, and then a mad dash through a building lit on fire by overzealous underlings.   
  
Roth scoffs, shaking the memory off. "We've almost killed each other regularly since we met, but why on God's earth would you think that  _ bothered _ me, considering what we tend to do afterwards?"   
  
Jacob flushes, but doesn't rise to the bait, shrugging off Roth's words and keeping his eyes down. Roth stands without fully meaning to, the abrupt change forcing Jacob to look up at him for a half-second, and what Roth can see in his face before he turns his head down again makes him see red.   
  
"Now you listen to me, darling," he whispers, sliding onto the bench beside Jacob and hooking an arm around Jacob's shoulders, "You are living proof of my impeccable good taste, dear boy. You are not, nor have you ever been, a bother to me - and I will  _ delight _ in proving to you just how much I want you around later tonight, if you'd like - and I will  _ not _ hear anymore about you being a  _ misstep _ . Not to me, Jacob. Never to me."

By the end of his little speech, Jacob's gone past flushed and into the color range Roth generally associates with boiling seafood, but he's also  _ looking up _ , and Roth is familiar enough with Jacob now that he can tell that the smile being aimed at him is genuine, and not one of the fakes he uses to wave off his sister and every other person too dimwitted to notice how upset he gets.   
  
"Thank you," Jacob whispers, and semi-public location be damned, Roth wraps both arms around him and squeezes tight for a moment before letting him go with a quick kiss to his hair.   
  
"Right, now that that's ironed out, carry on! How are you going to rework this lovely little ditty to get that blatant lie out of it?"   
  
Jacob's quiet a moment, and then starts laughing, laughing until he has to lean down until his head touches the piano to breathe properly. "I haven't - haven't the foggiest," he wheezes, and Roth rolls his eyes as he stands up, absently patting Jacob on the head as he goes.   
  
This would call for the  _ good _ liquor, then. His darling Jacob always thought up his best lyrics when utterly sloshed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I and my resident tormentor/cheerleader have decided that Jacob writes a good number of the fun songs you get from the game, including Jokes Jokes Jokes. And then I realized how Jacob referring to himself as Roth's one misstep sounds, and then, well.
> 
> He never does figure out a better way to work the song. Roth can't get the tune out of his head. They compromise and agree it'll always and forever be sung as cheerily and sarcastically as possible. And the end is probably different.


End file.
